Fortyniner
by ursula2
Summary: Katie is torn between the harsh realities of life at the turn of the century and the dreams of a life she wished she had. Will an aquaintance with the newsies help her decide what is important? Please read and review!
1. Disclaimer and Chapter 1

I've never done this before, but from what I've seen I suppose I need to put a disclaimer up at the beginning of my story. Disney owns the newsies and the rights to their story. I suppose I own anything new.  
  
She sat comfortably on the velvet cushion, resting her tired feet and cursing those tiny shoes. Carefully she removed the satin over dress and began the tedious process of unlacing her corset. With her shoulders and arms bare, she twisted her arms awkwardly to reach the laces down her back. Impatient, she shoved her long braided hair from one side of her back to the other, trying to position it so it was out of her way. She sighed in frustration; her whole body seemed to ache from her first evening onstage at Irving Hall. To her intense relief, she heard the door open behind her.  
  
Without turning around, she sighed, "Medda, could you help me with this thing? I'm so tired I feel like I'm tearing my fingers out rather than the laces." Silently Medda approached her from behind and began fumbling with the laces. Cocking her eyebrow in surprise Katie said, "I suppose you've had a long day too; they're just as hard for you as they are for me." She giggled softly. Medda rested her hands gently on Katie's bare shoulders, and Katie jumped, startled to feel that they weren't Medda's hands at all, but larger, roughly calloused hands. She turned abruptly to see the boy they called Jack Kelly, the self-proclaimed leader of the Manhattan newsboys and a favorite of Medda's standing behind her looking sheepish. She opened her mouth to rebuke him, but found she had nothing to say.  
  
"I think I can finish this for myself thanks," her level voice betrayed none of her surprise at finding this unknown boy in the Green Room of Irving Hall.  
  
He cleared his throat and nodded, backing toward the door. She turned away and began fumbling once again with the strings of the corset. She made quite a picture there, her hair strewn around her bare shoulders, her torso slightly twisted to try to see what her delicate hands were doing, her face visible only in profile, glowing from the light of the oil lamp on the table before her.  
  
"You performed real good tonight," he said.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't realize you were still here. Um, thank you." She turned to face him, not knowing what else to say but aware of the unladylike position he had found her in, half dressed with her shift tucked above her knees like a hussy. Though she knew that that was the opinion that many held of the vaudeville performers like herself, she tried to carry her profession with as much dignity as she could. Collecting the shreds of this dignity around her now that Jack's sudden appearance had startled away she said, "I certainly appreciate your compliment, but as you can see, now is hardly the time for me to be receiving guests."  
  
"No, of course not," the boy said, brow wrinkled as if these were not at all the words he had expected to come out of his mouth, and he left the room, closing the door gently behind him.  
  
Once on the other side of the closed door, Jack Kelly cursed silently to himself. That was not how he had intended things to go off. He had pictured himself bursting into the room, wooing her with a few well chosen remarks and tumbling wildly with her onto the fainting couch amidst her only half-hearted protests. Instead, he had stood there mute as any simpleton, somehow unable to recall why it was he had come. To his horror, this latest reaction only confirmed recent fears of his waning machismo. As he feared, he had evidently played the cuckolded house pet of Sarah Jacobs for too long. Shaking his head in self reproof, he started away from the door just as Medda came bursting backstage from her turn in front of the curtain.  
  
"Well you don't waste much time do you Kelly? It's only her first night!" Medda chided in a mocking tone. Beneath her joking exterior, the sight of Jack taking leave of her youngest protégé cut Medda to the quick. She knew she was a fading beauty, and it saddened her to think that Jack was now immune to her feminine wiles and thought of her only as a surrogate mother to replace the one he had lost so long ago. This thought brought a tinge of bitterness to the indulgent smile on her lips. Her, a mother? What a poor one she would make spending all her time swanning about on a stage so other men could gawk. And gawk they did, despite her age; this gave her a certain grim satisfaction.  
  
She was startled out of her brief reverie by the young man's jocular response. "Oh, you know Medda. I just can't resist congratulatin' a new- comah on a job well done and showing my- ah- appreciation." He grinned wickedly and she mocked astonishment.  
  
"Well you devil you." She sighed. "I suppose its no business of mine what you do so long as she's on her feet again for tomorrow night's show."  
  
"I'll do my best, but I can't guarantee how fast she'll recovah from yours truly." He struck a mock-debonair pose as he brushed past her and snuck out the stage door. Medda shook her head, not sure if she felt disapproving or rejected.  
  
Irving Hall was an old vaudeville house, but despite its sturdy determination to last through the years, the walls were none too thick. The girl had easily heard the conversation that passed between her employer and Jack Kelly outside the green room door. She scowled at herself, still struggling with the corset laces. She had known she should have screamed at the first sight of an uninvited man entering her dressing room when she was so immodestly clad. Now heaven knew what rumors would be circulating in the Hall about her and that admittedly dashing newsboy. She narrowed her eyes remembering the casual way in which he had implied to Medda that she was already his willing partner; its not as if he had done anything to prevent those rumors! She resolved to speak of it to no one and to feign ignorance should anyone mention the boy to her. Although she had no idea if even the most skilled liar could still the tongue of that busybody Toby the clown! 


	2. Chapter 2

She yawned loudly as she entered the small apartment she shared with her brother only to be startled by the rough sound of male laughter. "Katie, is that you?" she heard her brother call from the kitchen."  
  
Hastily removing her coat, she sighed as she walked into the kitchen, hoping she still appeared presentable to whatever guest Kevin had over that night. "Yes, I'm home Kevin. I'm sorry I entered so noisily; I didn't realize you would be entertaining." She nodded in deference to the smiling man seated across from her brother at the table.  
  
"Well, you couldn't have known. Katie, this is an old friend of mine from school. He's a reporter for the Sun and we were discussing the possibility of him finding me work there after all the lay-offs at the mill."  
  
"God grant he can help," she responded, but startled herself with her own bluntness. "I apologize for my abrupt response, sir, but my brother seems to feel out of sorts with only me to earn the money for our little family."  
  
Kevin scowled. He took his role as her provider very seriously, and he had always cared for her well, but since they had both lost their jobs at the knitting mill he had been ashamed that the only work his sister could find was parading on a stage in front of drunken louts. He had been even more shamed that there seemed to be no employment available at all for an able-bodied man in his late twenties. Reluctant to let his sister spill their entire sad story to his old friend and appear too desperate, he spoke to her sharply. "Katie, please refill Mr. Denton's glass from the bottle in the icebox."  
  
She nodded, appropriately silenced, and reached for the glass. The man at the table chuckled a little. "Kevin, please, she's your sister. There's no reason for her to be so formal with me. Call me Brian for heaven's sake. And please, join us at the table."  
  
"Well if you're not discussing anything too important," she answered as she replaced the newly filled glass in front of him at the table.  
  
"I think we've talked over all the business we can for one night, isn't that right Kevin?" Her brother nodded, although Katie could see he wasn't too pleased with the idea of her sharing in their men's conversation.  
  
She resolutely ignored her brother's disapproving looks. "So, how is work for the Sun Brian?"  
  
"Ah," he sighed as he ruffled his hands through his light brown hair, disarranging the carefully combed strands. "The work of a reporter is often hectic and demanding, but I get by because I honestly love the work." She smiled at his heartfelt sentiment.  
  
Kevin chuckled. "My sister once upon a time fancied herself a writer, isn't that right Kate?"  
  
Katie blushed. "Well it wasn't anything as serious as all that. Just a diversion for an idle mind."  
  
"And you don't write anymore? What a shame."  
  
Trying to shift the conversation away from her foolish dreams, she asked, "So tell us about you're most interesting assignments lately Mr. Denton.Brian."  
  
He smiled and pushed himself gently back from the table. She took his plate to the sink as he began to speak. "Well, I suppose this may interest you since you look to be about the same age as the young men I worked with. Last spring I covered the newsboys' strike against the New York World. I only got to publish one of my stories, but it was one of those real pleasures to cover something that was so emotionally charged. I've been after my boss to let me do a follow-up on Pulitzer's reforms concerning this contingent of his workforce, but he seems to think there are more newsworthy subjects out there."  
  
Katie nodded, intent on his story, as she wiped her wet hands on a dishrag. "And was most of your reporting for that story done through interviews or just recounting the facts as you saw them?"  
  
"Well, I'm a firm believer in attacking a story from all angles, so I did do my fair share of interviews with the boys. If I weren't among friends, I would be ashamed to say that I think I came out somewhat biased in my opinion, thinking that the boys were right to struggle for their rights."  
  
"It's never shameful to show human compassion, Brian."  
  
He looked at her quizzically. "You know, it's a shame that you don't write anymore. You show some genuine interest in these things."  
  
She blushed again. "I don't know if I have the head to be a newsman."  
  
"You'd be surprised the strength you can find in yourself once you look for it. You should go talk to some of these boys, see if their stories inspire you. You know, I would be happy to look at whatever you write."  
  
"Really?" she said, flustered. "I.I would love to-"  
  
"Brian I think my sister has had enough idle thoughts introduced into her empty head tonight. Thank you for offering to help me find a job, but I think it's time for us to go to sleep." Kevin obviously disapproved of Brian reintroducing these foolish notions to his sister.  
  
"Oh, of course Kevin. I know you must have had a hard day at work," he said to her. "But I meant what I said about your work," and he handed her his card, neatly printed with his name and his office number at the Sun. She smiled and ran to get his coat from the coat closet as he rose to leave.  
  
Before she went to bed her brother warned her not to take any of Brian's ridiculous notions to heart and not to waste her time trying to write when she had to make money for the family, but he had forgotten that she only worked in the evenings and so had the entire morning to do with as she would. 


	3. Chapter 3

She didn't even have to wonder at what to do with her time in the morning; she headed out the door at nine a.m. and set out in search of the newsboys to ask them about the strike and to see if their tales of conquering adversity would inspire her. The crisp November air blew about her fiercely and made her tug her woolen coat around her tightly as she ventured out alone into Manhattan's busy streets.  
  
She didn't have to walk far before she came across a newsie hawking the morning's headline. Suddenly shy, she observed him from a fruit stand as he frantically shouted outlandish headlines to all the passersby. His blond hair was tousled from the wind and he wore a patch over his right eye. She wondered absently if the patch were simply a ploy to attract customers or if he had really suffered some grievous injury earlier in his lifetime. He seemed extremely confident as he passed his papers to the citizens and accepted their pennies in return; as if he knew they would buy from him whether they wanted to or not. She scowled at his cocky attitude, as if he took his privileged status as one who made enough money to live for granted. Sure he worked hard, but working hard wasn't enough for everyone; her brother had worked hard, and look where that'd gotten him. Suddenly angry, she scuffed her soft shoe in the dirt in front of the fruit stand. As she moved her foot, she noticed the sharp gleam of metal on the ground and stooped quickly to pick up the penny that one of the stand's customers must have dropped. She took it as a good sign and dropped it in the pocket of her apron, casually wiping the dirt from her fingers.  
  
Turning her attention to the newsie again, she was startled to see that he was moving away from the fruit stand. Silently, she followed him, still feeling too timid to question him, but curious as to where he was going. She dodged and darted around the carts and stands filling the busy streets to avoid being seen by the wandering newsboy, all the while filling her head with her impressions of him and his trade. Does he find dignity in this, she wondered. Is that why so many of them were willing to fight? She found it hard to see dignity in the hawking of someone else's writing on a dusty New York street, but she supposed he would see little dignity in her profession if their situations were reversed.  
  
Biting her lip in thought, she decided to jot some notes on the subject as she followed the lively newsboy. She fished the stub of a pencil from the pocket of her pinafore and realized belatedly that she had nothing to write on. Suddenly the newsie's stack of papers took on a more appealing aspect for her. Their blank white margins seemed to scream for her to fill them. Seeing there was nothing else for it, she approached him to buy a paper.  
  
Knowing that the cost was dear, she held out one of the two pennies she had with her toward the newsboy. "One paper please," she said.  
  
Efficiently, he grabbed the penny and shoved a paper toward her with a mumbled, "Thank ye ma'am."  
  
She knew she had to seize her chance when it presented itself, so when the boy turned from her to hand out two more papers, she quickly perused the day's headlines. As he finished his sales and prepared to move on through the crowd, she blurted, "Sure is quite a lark what they say in here about the new century changing our lives and all."  
  
He looked up, startled to hear that she hadn't moved on after buying her paper. "Look lady, you don't get your money back if ya think the story's lousy."  
  
She cursed inwardly; she had said the wrong thing. "No!" she nearly shouted, anxious to right her wrong. She calmed her voice and continued. "I mean, it doesn't look like much is going to change in our lives in the next two months. Come January, you'll likely still be selling papers and I'll be knitting woolen hats."  
  
This made him chuckle, but he stopped abruptly. "No you won't."  
  
"What?" She was taken aback by his assumption.  
  
"I know about all those layoffs at the knitting mill and I also know for a fact that if you still had a job there you wouldn't be roaming the street at this time of the morning. I newsie's gotta keep his eye on the news, even if it's only on page twelve."  
  
She had been expecting simple, straightforward chatter, not a clever response to her attempts at conversation. She was momentarily at a loss for words. To her relief, he seemed to be content with just letting her know that he knew of her dire situation, and continued the conversation. "I s'pose it's easy for those newsmen to dream of a new world, but all 1900 will mean to me is another year gone."  
  
"You talk like you're an old man."  
  
"Not quite.could an old man do this?" She gasped as he took off at a run and cannoned himself straight into another member of the crowd. The shorter, dark haired boy stumbled to the ground, cursing. "You bastad! I'll cut yah motha lovin' prick off!" He picked himself up, but when he caught sight of his attacker, his outraged scowl turned into a grin of recognition. He took a playful swing which the other boy easily avoided and accepted a good natured punch in the gut. The shorter boy hastily swept off his cap when he caught sight of Katie watching their hijinks.  
  
"A nickel for the show ma'am?" he asked, obviously ready to seize any chance at making some cash. The boy with the eyepatch nudged him.  
  
"Ya dimwit, she's not just gawkin'; I was provin' a point."  
  
"What, that ya couldn't win a fight even when ya took me by surprise?" He was silenced by a cuff on the back of the head and turned his attention back to Katie. "Point proven?"  
  
"Well enough," she smiled.  
  
He bent to collect his scattered papers and grunted in dismay when he found them soggy and ruined by the filth of the street. "Damn it, Blink, look what ya did to my morning papes!"  
  
The taller boy, Blink, shrugged, not looking the least bit concerned. "Ah, forget it. Ya wanna go find some lunch at Tibby's?"  
  
Seemingly forgetting the day's wages he was wasting, the other boy grinned. "Yeah, sure! I'm starved." Katie smiled at their attitudes. It's only life, so why not enjoy it? Perhaps she had been wrong in her assumption that they found some dignity in their profession. Perhaps it was just a way to pass the time.  
  
"Care to join us?" Blink asked.  
  
Katie wanted to, but she was wary, remembering the solitary penny she had in her pocket. "Tibby's ain't the Ritz but Cook's awful free with the leftovers," Blink continued as if reading her mind.  
  
"Don't you mean free with the awful leftovers?" the other boy jibed.  
  
"I'd love to," she answered.  
  
"Great!"  
  
Leaving the muddy newspapers, the three headed together down the street. "So in case ya hadn't noticed, I'm Kid Blink and this midget ovah heah's Racetrack."  
  
"At your service ma'am." Katie was highly amused by Race's attempts at gallantry.  
  
"It's nice to meet you both. My name's Katie."  
  
"So Katie," Blink began, "you lookin' for a job now that the mill's gone bottom up? We could always use anothah good newsie on the streets."  
  
"What he means is he could always use anothah girl in da bunkroom," Race laughed.  
  
Katie smiled seeing the color rise to Blink's cheeks. "Nah, I get by."  
  
"What do ya do?" asked Race, not willing to accept her abbreviated answer.  
  
"I write." The answer came out so quickly she wasn't sure why she's said it. Was she really that ashamed of her job at Irving Hall? "I mean I'm workin' on a story for the Sun." Well, it was almost the truth.  
  
"The Sun, huh?" Race seemed interested. "They did a story about me once." Blink chuckled, and Race looked up at him, annoyed. "Well, not about me exactly; about the newsies."  
  
"Yeah, I heard something about that. A strike, wasn't it?"  
  
"It sure was." His face took on a misty, nostalgic look.  
  
"Jesus Race, you act like those were the good ol' days, bein' gypped out of a tenth of a cent a pape? You get smacked in the head or somethin'?"  
  
Race shrugged as they came into sight of Tibby's, a low, unassuming building with a green awning and dirty windows. Lounging against the façade was a tall, gangly youth with a faded pink shirt and his suspenders hanging uselessly from his pants. He squinted at the approaching trio from under his mop of sandy brown hair.  
  
"Hey Skitts," Blink hailed. "No leftovers yet?"  
  
"Nah, got a couple of fat cows in there cleanin' their plates," he scowled.  
  
Blink grinned. "Katie, this is Skittery. Skittery, this heah's our new friend Katie. She's a writah from the Sun." He boasted as if her accomplishments were somehow his own. Katie stood uncomfortably as Skittery looked her up and down.  
  
"Nah," he said definitively as he spat on the cobblestones. "I don't buy it."  
  
"Excuse me?" she said, taken aback.  
  
He looked at her, annoyed, as if the explanation wasn't worth the trouble. "Look, there ain't no way some fat cat newspaperman would give you a job unless of course it was in return for your other-ah- services. So what, do you spend all day on your back in the printing room?"  
  
She was appalled by what he was insinuating, and he just smirked at her smugly. Racetrack tried to cover up the uncomfortable moment. "What's wit you Skitts, ya have a little ass hole with your coffee this mornin'?" Skittery just shrugged and sauntered casually into the restaurant.  
  
"Hm," Blink reflected, "that was-"He was interrupted by the approach of another newsboy Katie wasn't happy to see.  
  
"Hey fellahs, no food yet?" It was Jack Kelly. Katie steeled herself to be embarrassed and taunted by the boys when Jack told them she was no writer but a cheap vaudeville performer, no better than a whore.  
  
"Hey Jack!" Race answered. "We was just tryin' to treat our new friend Katie heah to lunch so she'd give us another good story for the Sun."  
  
"The Sun huh? Huh." He looked at her, recognition plain on his face and Katie clenched her fists as if preparing for a blow. "Well I hate to break this to ya," he said to Katie, "but something tells me you're not gonna be too impressed with this place. C'mon guys, let's eat." He gestured to Blink and Race to enter the restaurant.  
  
"Comin' Katie?" Blink asked.  
  
"Nah," it came out as a hoarse whisper. "I'm not so hungry."  
  
Blink shrugged, confused. "Well, we'll see ya around then. Our sellin' spot's pretty much the same every day, so stop by and see us sometime."  
  
"Yeah, sure." She was confused as to why Jack had not exposed her lie to his friends. As Race and Blink disappeared into the dimly lit interior of Tibby's, she called out, "Hey Kelly!" He turned to face her with a bemused expression of surprise on his face.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Unsure what gesture would be appropriate, she hastily scooped the penny she'd found on the street earlier out of her pocket and tossed it to him. He caught it with a practiced gesture. "Thanks." She turned and headed for Medda's, ready to start her evening's work. 


	4. Chapter 4

As Medda was arranging Katie's hair for the evening's performances, Katie probed her gently for news concerning the newsies and their strike. She was surprised at the amount of information Medda had; she had forgotten how close Medda was to all the boys, not only Jack.  
  
"It was truly shameful the way they were treated. And they're only children!" Katie thought to herself that most of them appeared to be well past childhood and old enough to take care of themselves, but she held her tongue. "But you should have seen how brave my Kelly was. He led them to victory, he did."  
  
"You talk as if he's some kind of hero."  
  
"Oh, he is my dear; he certainly is."  
  
"He seems to know it plenty well himself."  
  
"Kids with lives like his have the right to be a little arrogant when they can. Kelly has a good heart, and he's not lacking in talent in more ways than one." She gave Katie a knowing look which Katie pretended not to see. She could tell Medda was frustrated that her gossip attempt had been thwarted. "There now," she said, putting the finishing touches on Katie's dramatic hairstyle. "Now you do mine."  
  
She continued her story as she switched places with Katie and Katie began to brush out her long red curls. She was proud that there was no hint of grey in them, although she couldn't say that she hadn't helped nature along a bit on that front. "The boys would often meet here to discuss their plans and I would put on a show for them. It was the least I could do." Katie knew it couldn't have hurt Medda's vanity at all to have a crowd full of young boys hooting at her. The thought made her smile. "Some of them are still regulars, although most of them can't afford it. But I don't have a problem if the only payment I get is the knowledge that I'm bringing a little light to their bleak lives." Katie had to stifle a giggle at this obvious melodrama. "In fact, I have a contract with the New York World to put on a charity show every once and awhile for the boys. Mostly major holidays. You'll get to help out for Christmas."  
  
"Oh so Pulitzer is taking measures to reform his treatment of the newsboys? Paying for your concerts and such?"  
  
"Oh yes. That man will do whatever it takes to avoid another incident like the strike. Those boys certainly struck fear into him." She chuckled. 


	5. Chapter 5

The night's show went off well, but Katie was as exhausted at the end of it as she had been the night before. Medda had told Katie to sing her old classic "My Lovey Dovey Baby" but to give it a little kick. At first the audience, mostly regulars, had been hesitant to accept the new girl singing Medda's most popular song, but she sang it with such an infectious enthusiasm that she selfishly told herself that most of them had probably forgotten that Medda had ever sung it. As ashamed as she often felt about performing at Irving Hall, she had to admit to herself that she enjoyed her time on stage and would be upset when the mill started hiring again and Kevin insisted she go back to knitting from dawn until dusk with no excitement in her changeless days.  
  
She was just about to remove her overdress when she heard the door creak open behind her. Knowing better than to assume it was Medda, she turned around to see Jack Kelly. She registered only mild surprise. "Well at least you caught me with my clothes on this time."  
  
"Yeah, too bad." His eyes twinkled suggestively. Katie was surprised that he was so much bolder than he had been the night before. He was no longer stammering or edging toward the door. She supposed it helped that he knew she was dependent on him to keep her secret so she could continue her quasi- friendship with Racetrack and Kid Blink.  
  
She cleared her throat and turned to her mirror, undoing her hair. "Thanks for not telling your friends that I lied to them." It was easier to express her gratitude when she didn't have to look at his cocky face.  
  
"Hell, everybody's got to have secrets." She was taken aback by his honest answer when she had been expecting a joking response.  
  
"Well I suppose you're right." She turned back to face him and there was a moment of awkward silence between the two of them, as if they were both at a loss for words.  
  
Jack cleared his throat and shook himself a bit, reminding himself that he was no timid schoolboy and the girl sitting in front of him was just another vaudeville singer, no better than Medda. He sauntered over to where Katie was seated and plucked teasingly at the sleeve of her dress. "So, how long does it take to get one of these off anyway?" he asked suggestively, expecting her to giggle girlishly in return, the usual response to his advances.  
  
"Out out out!" Katie nearly shouted to his astonishment as she shoved him away. "I spend all night swanning about on stage so half-grown boys like you can pretend like any girl with an ounce of sense would be even remotely interested, and then I have to deal with nonsense like this?" He sputtered, his cockiness gone in her sudden barrage of insults. "Am I supposed to pretend like anyone who saunters in here with some cocky one- liner can do whatever he likes with me after the curtain goes down? Why don't you try that approach with Medda, I'm sure she's had more practice at it than I have!" He stood there, not knowing how to respond to this seemingly unfounded outburst. She looked at him as if he were lower than dirt. "Are you deaf as well as stupid? I said get out!"  
  
Finally really heeding her words, if not truly comprehending them, he stumbled out of the door and closed it shakily behind him. Fuming and surprised that she hadn't breathed smoke, Katie hastily returned to the task at hand. Once again struggling with her corset laces, she couldn't restrain herself from cursing when she heard the door open again so soon.  
  
"Didn't I tell you to get your sorry ass out of here?" She swung around to face him but stopped short when she realized it wasn't him at all but that rude, lanky boy from earlier that day.  
  
"I knew I recognized you," he sneered. "You ain't no writah at all. More of a whore than I first had you pegged for."  
  
Frustrated by these boys storming into the green room every night pretending like they had some earth shattering revelation to tell her, and then insulting her to her face, she tried to remain calm. Unfortunately, calmness was out of the question, and sarcasm seemed to be the only available replacement. "I'm sorry, what was your name again? Scooter was it? Well Scooter, as you can see, now is hardly the time for me to be discussing my career path with anyone let alone an unknown gentleman caller. So if you'll just-" She was cut off midway through her gesture toward the door.  
  
The color rose in his cheeks, and if smoke hadn't escaped from Katie's mouth during her earlier conversation with Jack Kelly, she was almost certain it should be coming from this boy's ears at this moment. "Skittery, my name's Skittery. You damn well know that!"  
  
"Why silly me, how could I have forgotten?" she said in her least sincere tone of voice with a cordial smile plastered on her face.  
  
Skittery wasn't blind to the fact that he was being insulted, and that was the last thing he wanted. As if he didn't get enough of insults day in and day out from the boys at the lodging house. He reminded himself that this girl was in no position to insult him. He stood up a bit taller and replied, "I don't know why you just don't tell 'em - the newsies. Why this big secret? I'm sure some of them could come up with the penny it costs to pay for your attentions."  
  
For the second time that evening, Katie was livid. "How dare you make accusations like that! You have no right -"  
  
"Hey hey hey," Skittery interrupted, waving his hands in a non- threatening manner, "I just wanna know why all the lying?"  
  
"Maybe it's so the others won't make assumptions like you!"  
  
"Well now I know your secret.so, what's it worth?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I could tell everyone tonight. How're you gonna stop me? What's it worth?"  
  
What was it worth? There had been no real reason she'd told those boys she was a writer rather than a vaudeville performer, but now that she'd told the lie, could they know the truth without despising her? And if the newsies disliked her, she might never be able to write that follow- up story she was secretly hoping Brian Denton would publish in the Sun. What could she offer this boy to protect that seemingly idle hope?  
  
"Look, my brother knows how much I make every night; he'd start asking questions if I gave you some of my salary."  
  
"I don't want your money."  
  
"Well if you already know what it is that you want, then why don't you just come out and say it!"  
  
In two steps he bounded across the room to where she was and clasped her in a kiss. It was rough, but Katie got the feeling that was more from his lack of experience than anything else, more clumsiness than rage. Still, he wouldn't let her go and she wanted to scream, "Enough already!" because this was just too much to comprehend. Seeing no alternative, she bit down on the tongue that he had roughly shoved into her mouth until she tasted blood. He pulled away, but he didn't make a sound, not a scream, not even a yelp. Instead he just looked intently at her as he wiped some of the blood from his lip. Then, he smiled a bloody, self-satisfied smile, and left the room, closing the door gently but firmly behind him.  
  
Katie sighed, hoping that would be the last of them; she'd had enough admirers for the night. 


	6. Chapter 6

As Katie made her way to the fruit stand where she first saw Kid Blink the next morning, she justified to herself her decision to ignore Skittery's threats. Why would someone spill a secret if he still thought he could get something out of it? Not that she was planning on giving him any more to keep him quiet. His advances didn't scare her, she just felt frustrated with his holier-than-thou posturing. She got enough of that from her brother. Wasn't she making a living? The money in her pocket was every bit as valid as the few pennies he dragged home every day after hawking headlines from dawn until dusk. Rather than being frightened at what Skittery might do, when she arrived at the fruit stand, she instead felt angry at his stupidity, which she didn't blame entirely on him. She figured it was some fundamental flaw in the male race.  
  
So, when she caught sight of Blink selling his papers, she smiled and headed towards him, ready to face whatever his opinion of her would be. After all, she hadn't put overmuch effort into this friendship, and if she never got to write that story for Brian Denton and the Sun, she would be no worse off than she was to begin with.  
  
Despite her resolve to accept whatever reaction he might give, she was so relieved to see his cheerful smile answering hers as she struggled toward him in the crowd that she nearly tripped over the smaller newsie that was standing in his shadow. Though she managed to keep her footing, she did make a rather undignified "oof" sound as she felt an impact somewhere around her navel. She looked down to see a filthy face scowling up at her under a mop of matted black hair. He looked deeply offended that she didn't consider him to be as tall as everyone else in the crowd, as if it were merely her fault she found him to be short.  
  
"Watch where yer goin' lady!" he bellowed. Or at least he tried to bellow; it came off as somewhat of a screech.  
  
She suppressed a smile. "Terribly sorry. Lost my head there for a moment."  
  
"Yeah, you almost lost a lot more than that," was his testy response.  
  
Blink cuffed him roughly in the back of the head. "Rat, is that how we address a lady?"  
  
Still scowling, he rubbed the back of his head and replied, "What kind of a lady goes runnin' into somebody." His complaints trailed off into unintelligible mutterings, and Katie was able to turn her attention to Blink.  
  
"Racetrack becoming too much competition for you?" she smiled, gesturing at his pint-sized selling partner.  
  
"Nah, Race's around here someplace; we just brought Rat along for the day." He dropped his voice to a whisper so Rat couldn't hear it above the constant murmur of the crowd. "He's been havin' a little trouble keepin' his head above water. We thought we could give him some tips. The kid could stand to learn some manners too," he grinned.  
  
"That's awfully kind of you." They protect their own. It's almost like a family structure, she thought. Yet again, she yearned for some writing material to record her musings.  
  
"Well we're not all barbarians, no matter what idea you got from Skittery."  
  
His statement startled her out of her inner dialogue. What had Skittery told him? She sputtered, "What? Skittery - what? I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."  
  
"Skittery, you know, he was that rude bastard we met outside Tibby's yesterday. Didn't want ya to get the wrong idea on account of what he said."  
  
"Tibby's, right. Well, no harm done." She smiled weakly, too relieved to formulate a proper response.  
  
"Well Rat, what do ya say we go find Race and take a little break to talk with our friend here?"  
  
"A break? I ain't even sold ten papes yet!" Rat protested.  
  
"Well maybe if you kept your mind on yer sellin' instead of nickin' fruit from the stand when old Pam ain't lookin', you'd 'a sold more by now."  
  
The seemingly permanent scowl on Rat's face deepened at the insult, but he turned obediently and darted through the crowd ahead of them to find Racetrack.  
  
"Hey Rat, wait! You dropped your -" He was too far away to hear Katie call as she bent down to retrieve the button that had fallen off his shirt onto the ground.  
  
"Good eye," Blink complimented as they followed in the smaller newsie's wake.  
  
When they caught up with Race, the four of them sat companionably on a bench chatting idly about their days. Well, three of them chatted; Rat struggled to reattach his button to his shirt, his tongue jutting out from the corner of his mouth in frustrated concentration as he poked his finger with the sewing needle for the fortieth time. Blink mocked him for being so inadept at the task that every newsie, whether he wanted to or not, had to be able to do. This, of course, only made him more impatient and more reckless with the needle.  
  
"So Katie, you missed quite a lunch yesterday," Racetrack mentioned. "Although I s'pose who needs a free lunch with what they're payin' you over at the Sun."  
  
Katie somewhat resented his implication that her means were so far above his own. She also didn't want to erase the possibility of being invited for a free lunch again, so she made up a plausible excuse to explain her lack of funds. "The thing is, I don't really get a salary at the Sun." Racetrack looked at her quizzically. "They pay me per story. So if the news is slow, I live off cabbage soup." He grinned in understanding.  
  
"Well, if spendin' some time with the newsies can help you get a paycheck, we're happy to oblige. As long as we can see a cut of the profit, that is."  
  
She smiled at his joking tone. "Alright Race, when my paycheck for this story comes in, we'll see if we can afford to get you a new cigar." She gestured to the battered cigar he was chomping even as they spoke and he smiled sheepishly.  
  
"Anyways," Blink joined, "you did leave pretty quick yesterday. Didn't even really get to introduce ya to any of the guys."  
  
"Yeah, well, I -"  
  
"Damn!" Katie was saved from having to make up another lie by Rat's overloud curse as he poked himself for the umpteenth time.  
  
"Rat, just let me do that for you," Katie sighed, frustrated. "It'll take far less time and you'll get far less blood all over your shirt." Even as she was saying this, she whisked the needle away from Rat and had the button securely reattached before he could make many protests.  
  
Surprisingly, he looked even angrier once his button was back in place. Without a word, he took the apple he had undoubtedly stolen from Pam, the woman at the fruit stand, and thrust it into Katie's lap. Startled, she tried to give it back to him.  
  
"Thanks, but I don't - "  
  
He refused to take it back. "Newsies don't take charity!"  
  
"It wasn't charity, I just - "  
  
"Just keep it," Blink said calmly as Rat glared up at her stubbornly. "He hasn't got anything else to pay ya with."  
  
"No, but I don't need - "  
  
Blink silenced her with a look that clearly said she'd better shut up because she was treading on a delicate issue, so she smiled meekly at Rat and tucked the apple into her apron pocket.  
  
"That was some pretty fast needlework," Race cut in to break the tension.  
  
"Thanks. I've been patching up holes for as long as I can remember. I don't even have to think about it anymore."  
  
"You hear that Rat? Maybe if you practiced a little more you could end up spendin' more time sellin' papes and less time patchin' up all those damn holes you put in your clothes."  
  
"How'm I s'posed to practice if I've gotta sell papes anyway ya dimwit?"  
  
"Katie could do it!" Blink suggested.  
  
"She's not the one who needs the practice," Race noted, looking pointedly at Rat.  
  
"No, I mean Katie could patch up the holes while we're all out sellin' papes. That way we wouldn't miss so much time. I mean, I'm loads better than Rat here at sewing on buttons, but it takes me about ten times longer than Katie to do it. And even so it just falls off again a week later." His voice gained speed as he got excited about his idea. "I wouldn't have a problem payin' her either. Say, a half a cent per um.thing."  
  
"Yeah, and then you wouldn't have to worry about starvin' before you sell your next story!" Race had warmed to his friend's plan.  
  
Katie was taken aback by their generosity. They must really hate to do their own mending, she thought. Quickly, she weighed the pros and cons of their proposition in her head. She was reluctant to find herself indebted to these boys. No matter how friendly they seemed, a debt of any kind was dangerous. Plus, Kevin and herself were not exactly in dire straits financially. Her job at Medda's paid well enough for the two of them to live. However, she was intrigued by the prospect of income she could do with as she liked and not have to hand over to her brother who insisted on managing the family's finances. It would also give her more of an opportunity to talk with the newsies and do research for her story. In the end, it was the last argument that swayed her.  
  
"Alright, I'd be happy to do your mending. As long as you advertise me to your friends of course. I doubt doing mending for only three boys could keep me from resorting to cabbage soup." She smiled and Race and Blink grinned back at her. It seemed even Rat's scowl had lifted a little. Of course she could have been imagining it. 


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Katie set up shop in the newsboys' lodging house in Manhattan. At first she thought that she could bring the boys' clothing home with her to mend, but she soon realized that she'd have to answer too many questions from Kevin. Luckily, Blink suggested that she use the boys' bunkroom to mend clothes while they were all out selling papers. She found the building without too much trouble, perhaps owing to the infamy of the newsboys' antics in the area.  
  
That first day was not exactly easy. She got to the lodging house around seven o'clock in the morning, but of course, the newsboys were already out on the streets selling papers. Kloppman, the old man who ran the lodging house, looked her over critically and gestured gruffly to a box of clothing in one corner of the ground floor. Seeing that there was no place to sit to do her work, she turned to Kloppman to ask him if he could provide a chair, but he had already busied himself in a back room somewhere. Sighing, she hefted the box and proceeded up the stairs, thinking that there must be some place to sit in the bunkroom.  
  
She emerged, panting, into the deserted room at the top of the stairs, and set the box down gratefully before her as she entered the room. Unfortunately, after a quick glance through the room, she realized that there were no chairs, only the newsies' bunks stacked tightly from wall to wall in orderly rows. The rows were the last orderly thing about the room, however. Spare clothes were strewn carelessly about the room, and none of the beds were made properly. Katie smiled ruefully as she thought of what a mess her apartment could be living with only one brother; she couldn't imagine keeping house for fifty of them.  
  
Choosing one of the cleaner looking bunks, she sat down gingerly and began mending the pile of clothes in the box. Blink and Racetrack must have done some heavy advertising with their friends, since the box was nearly full, mostly with clothes that looked like they belonged to the younger boys who were not necessarily so adept at mending their own garments. To begin, she pulled out an especially worn pair of socks and began darning. She found that she became accustomed to the monotony of the task fairly quickly. Her mind was free to wander to other questions such as her developing story for the Sun. She had gotten quite a bit of basic information out of Medda, but she wanted to ask the newsies themselves how they felt about their rapport with the newspaper hierarchy since the strike. Did they see Pulitzer's recent charitable actions as a sign of true repentance for his wrongdoing or simply as acting in his own best interest to avoid another fiasco like the strike?  
  
The day passed surprisingly quickly. For lunch, she helped herself to the apple she had purchased from Pam, the fruit seller, near Blink's selling spot. She felt a strange affinity with the woman, and wanted to help her make her living as well as she could. By the early evening, she had finished with the majority of the clothing in the box, and the first of the newsies began to return to the lodging house, looking tired after their long day of work. The younger newsies returned first; the work of a newsboy took some time to get accustomed to, and the younger boys often lacked the stamina to sell the quantity of papers moved by the older boys.  
  
In groups of two they approached her, bickering heatedly about who would pay the penny owed for their garments. Dutifully, she handed them their mended clothes, but many of them, like Rat, were unwilling to engage in conversation. She had to wait a bit longer for the older newsies to come and collect their clothes since they obviously had more papers to sell, and chose to stay out later for whatever reasons. She protested weakly when Blink produced a penny to pay for the shirt and trousers she had mended for him, but he insisted on paying like anyone else, regardless of the fact that he had gotten her the job in the first place.  
  
As she was fishing his shirt out of the pile, she took the opportunity to ask him some of the questions that had been floating through her mind all day. "So Blink, mind if I ask you a few questions?"  
  
"Does this mean I get my picture in the papah? I've been told the camera loves me," he said in all seriousness.  
  
"I'll see what I can do," Katie answered, grinning.  
  
"Well then, fire away!"  
  
"Well, I've found in my research that in addition to lowering the price of papers to what it was before the strike, Pulitzer has developed other plans for reform. For example, giving you and the other boys a free cabaret show on holidays. How do you feel about these measures?"  
  
"Hell, anything for a free show," he chuckled.  
  
"No, I'm serious Blink, what do you think?"  
  
"Aw, I dunno." He sighed and swiped his hand over the back of his neck in thought. "It's all well and good an' all, but he would never do it if it weren't in his best interest, would he?"  
  
"Ah, come on," another voice chimed in, "give the guy a break. Maybe he's trying to mend his evil ways." Katie saw that the voice belonged to a gawky youth leaning on a crutch and looking disapprovingly at Kid Blink. "The name's Crutchy," he said, grinning widely and extending his hand toward Katie.  
  
"Pleased to meet you. I'm - "  
  
"I know," he smiled. "Actually, those're my socks right there," he said, pointing into the box that was rapidly emptying as newsies retrieved their mended things.  
  
"Did I hear somebody says somethin' about gettin' their picture in the papes? Better take mine, I'm better lookin'," joked another approaching boy with olive skin and untidy hair. He ducked a friendly punch from Blink as he introduced himself as Mush.  
  
Racetrack approached to add his two cents to the conversation. "Who cares what old man Pulitzah's tryin' to make up for as long as I get another shot with Medda." He whistled loudly.  
  
"Whaddaya talkin' about? You're still too short to be havin' thoughts like that," Mush mocked, laughing.  
  
Racetrack put on a deeply offended grimace. "Hey, I may be short, but what I lack in height I make up for in stamina." He grinned suggestively and wiggled his eyebrows. Katie giggled despite her better judgement.  
  
"Yeah, well ya got a hell of a lot to make up for," countered Mush.  
  
"Get ovah heah ya lousy scabber!" Race took a wild swing at Mush, who dodged it easily.  
  
"Hey, now that ya mention it," Crutchy broke in, tactfully quelling the developing tussle, "I've heard around that Medda's got a new girl workin' with her."  
  
"Mmmm, fresh meat!" said Mush, smacking his lips comically.  
  
"Yeah I'd like to get an eyeful of whatever sweet little thing Medda's picked out," sighed Blink, his eyes taking on a faraway look.  
  
Not wanting to know what images were floating through Blink's mind and desperate to get away before the blush spreading on her cheeks became too noticeable, Katie hastily put aside the box and prepared to get up. "Well boys, I think I'm done here. I'll just -"  
  
Before she could finish her sentence, someone plopped down on the bunk next to her and put his hand on her leg in an all too familiar fashion. "So you finally came to your senses," said Jack Kelly, his brown hair hooding his deep-set eyes, which showed no hint of their fatigue after the long day's selling.  
  
"Excuse me?" She returned his suggestive look with a glare.  
  
"You're sitting on my bunk." He grinned crookedly, seeing the moment's surprise that flickered in her eyes before she regained her composure.  
  
"Well, not for long. I was just on my way out." She stood up and smoothed her skirt before her. Jack Kelly just shrugged nonchalantly. "It was nice meeting you all," she said politely to the assembled boys. "I'll stop by later in the week to see if you need more mending done."  
  
They chorused their goodbyes as she hurried down the stairs to the door. She cursed mightily as she walked headlong into the person on the other side of the door preparing to enter. She knew her day couldn't get much worse as she looked up to see Skittery, looking down at her with what was first unguarded surprise but turned quickly to scorn. She skirted him hastily and she was somewhat shocked that he let her go without even a word. As she walked around the lodging house, she heard the boys calling greetings to Skittery through the bunkroom's open window.  
  
"Heya Skitts!" That friendly greeting must have been Crutchy's. "Slow night tonight?"  
  
"Yeah, it take you all day to sell those twenty papes you bought this morning?" said a mocking voice she didn't recognize.  
  
"Or maybe you was out sniffin around that cute waitress over at Malone's again," jeered Mush.  
  
"Yeah, did she accidentally dump another pot of hot coffee on your lap?" Katie could make out the loud laughter that followed Race's comment as she continued on her way to Irving Hall.  
  
Author's note: Sorry it took me so long to update. I blame that on finals and having to pry my roommate's cold dead hands off my keyboard so I could even get at my computer. Anyway, enjoy! 


	8. Chapter 8

While walking home from Irving Hall that night after the show, she adopted her usual city stance, her hands tucked deep into her pockets and her head down. She walked briskly, trying to discourage any possible attackers with her purposeful gait. She didn't look around her, only at the cobblestones under her feet, and only the crown of her head was illuminated by the streetlamps above as she hurried along.  
  
The night's show had been fairly uneventful with no unwelcome visitors afterwards in the green room. She only had to put up with mild teasing from Toby about her supposed affair with Jack Kelly, and she silenced him fairly quickly with a swift kick in his overlarge backside. She was just thinking over her good fortune when she heard a familiar voice jeering at her.  
  
"You left pretty quick after the show. Meeting someone?" She looked up to see the gangly figure of Skittery lounging up against the walls of the tenement building she was passing. His hat was pulled down low over his eyes, but she could still see him smirking at her in the dark.  
  
"The only things I was planning on meeting tonight were a cup of hot tea and my bed. You had to go and spoil those plans didn't you?" He shrugged. "What are you doing out here anyway? Get sick of the boys putting you in your place over at the lodging house?"  
  
She could tell this last comment stung him. He left the shadow of the brick wall and strolled towards her in the circle of light made by the streetlamp. "Maybe I've come to collect."  
  
She snorted derisively at this. "Collect what exactly? I have nothing to give you."  
  
"Well it don't seem to me like you're in much of a position to be refusing anybody anything right now, all alone in the middle of the night in a city like this."  
  
"Try me," she spat back, trying to hide her growing discomfort as she began to walk again.  
  
Before she could make it as much as two feet away from him, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Maybe I will," he growled threateningly. He tried to kiss her again, but before he could get a good grip on her, she stomped on his unprotected foot and made him drop her hastily. While he was cursing and hopping about, she turned and walked away briskly. She didn't run. If she'd learned anything about Skittery in the past couple of days, it's that he wouldn't chase.  
  
Gratefully, she reached her apartment building and sighed as she locked the door securely behind her. As she leaned with her head against the solid wood door, thinking over her day, she fingered the small pile of pennies in her apron pocket she had earned for her needlework. Kevin's peaceful snores reminded her that as poorly as the day had turned out; she had done something important for herself that day. She knew immediately what she would do with her first day's income from the newsies. She would buy a writing tablet on which to record her musings and notes about the boys and the strike. 


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry this update's been so long in coming. A combination of factors contributed to my lateness including finals and second semester preparation. Admittedly, I have not been receiving as many reviews as I would like, and it does tend to get difficult to deliver new material if I convince myself that no one is even reading the old stuff. So please, if you read my story and have something to say, say it! I appreciate your feedback. I would like to thank Kaylee, AaronLohrLover24, Rhapsody, and especially Raeghann for their support and comments. Please don't desert me because of this long absence; I love hearing what you guys have to say. So, here goes chapter nine. - Ursula  
  
Later in the week Katie returned to the lodging house once more to see if there was any more work for her there. She had gotten a good start on her story for the Sun and she wanted to collect more information from the newsies if she could. After the past few cheerless days of life as usual with Kevin, she also looked forward to some of the newsies' cheerful antics. She carried the half-full box of clothing up the stairs to the bunkroom expecting to set up shop this time on a bunk that didn't belong to Jack Kelly. To her surprise, when she reached the top of the stairs, she saw a low rocking chair sitting near the window at the end of the row of bunks.  
  
"I moved it up from my office," said a gruff voice behind her. It was Kloppman, the old man who owned the lodging house. "It's too low for these old bones anyhow."  
  
"Thank you Mr. Kloppman, what a lovely thought!" Katie smiled at him gratefully.  
  
"It's nice to see these boys running about with something warmer than nothin' on their bodies this time of year. You're doin' them a great service young lady." He gave her a watery old man's smile. "Now you just tell me if any of those boys start givin' you any trouble. Old Kloppman'll give 'em a what's for." He chuckled as he made his way slowly down the creaking stairs back to his office by the main door.  
  
Thinking that her day was already looking up, Katie moved to the chair and began working through the box left by the newsies. Noon came and went, and Katie was darning the last pair of socks in the box when she heard two pairs of feet clambering up the stairs to the bunkroom. Rat and Jack Kelly emerged into the room. For a moment, Rat scowled at her sitting in the chair.  
  
"You're back early," she commented to him.  
  
He shrugged at her and busied himself with some marbles and a chalk circle drawn on the floorboards near the window. Jack Kelly merely sighed and made his way to the washroom.  
  
Seeing that their presence was not going to disturb her work in any way, she continued with the socks, and sang absentmindedly to herself as she finished. She sang "La Femme avec son Mari Ivre" and dropped the socks with a satisfying plop into the box of newly mended clothing.  
  
"That was a nice song," commented Rat, his voice lacking its usual impatience. "What does it mean?"  
  
She was somewhat startled to be reminded of his presence. "It's about a woman with a drunken husband."  
  
"Really?" He looked skeptical. "You'd never guess that. It sounds so cheerful."  
  
"I don't know, my mother used to sing it to me when I was younger. I could teach it to you if you'd like."  
  
He looked nonplused and shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe, sometime." He returned to his marbles and Katie, having no more sewing to do, fished her tablet from her bag and began writing. She jotted some objective notes for her story, but she also included her general impressions of the newsies and of each newsie she knew in particular. She was trying to describe what she thought might be behind Rat's semi-permanent scowl when she heard Jack Kelly speaking from right next to her. He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke unceremoniously into Katie's face.  
  
"What ya writin'?" he asked.  
  
Hastily, she snapped the book shut. "Notes for my story," she replied.  
  
He grinned as if going along with a joke. "Oh, your story. Right." His tone turned serious. "Look, I don't know why you're doin' what you're doin' and like I said, I don't plan on spillin' your secret to any of these guys, but I just don't know what to make of it, or of you."  
  
"Jack Kelly, the only reason you don't know what to make of me is because I don't fall into a swoon whenever you look my way." Rat made a strangled sort of noise that could have been a laugh if he hadn't tried to turn it halfway through into a cough. Katie looked up at Jack testily from her seat on the rocking chair. "Can I get back to my writing please?" He didn't look surprised that she had dismissed him so quickly.  
  
Before he could reply, a graveled voice floated up the stairs. "Kelly! That better not be cigarette smoke I smell up there. Where ya gonna sleep once you burn this place down 'round your ears? Take it outside Kelly!" Jack exhaled a disgruntled stream of smoke from his nose.  
  
"Oh," Katie cooed, "does the big bad Jack Kelly take orders from old man Kloppman now? You'd better run along before he gets really angry." Katie made a mock-frightened face as he turned to leave, wearing a scowl that looked remarkably like Rat's.  
  
On his way out, he said to Rat, "Rat, I'm goin' out again. Don't let me catch you at old Pam's stand again or you'll have a hole in your head where there ain't meant to be one." Rat scowled again, but as soon as he heard the door close behind Jack, he was up and standing expectantly at Katie's chair. She looked up from her writing again, slightly annoyed.  
  
"Do you need something else mended Rat?"  
  
"Tell me what all the words mean.in that song."  
  
"Oh, so now that Jack Kelly's gone off again, you're interested?"  
  
He shrugged, but then looked at her in a conspiratorial way, reminding her that he was indeed only a young boy trying to make it in a world of his elders. "The other boys, they like to go down to the pubs at night and sing rowdy songs. I never know no rowdy songs. They all laugh and say I'm not old enough but I bet if I knew a rowdy song that even they couldn't understand, they'd stop their laughin'"  
  
She tried not to smile and spoil the gravity of his statement. "Well, anything I can do to help that cause." She sang the song again in French.  
  
Une femme s'est assise dans sa cuisine Son mari entrait tard de l'usine Elle pouvait sentir la bière sur son souffle Elle s'est enlevée doucement sa pantoufle Elle lui a dit dans une voix très douce « Tu doit prendre une décision mon pouce » (Ben, si tes pensées ne sont pas trop floues) Ma chaussure sur ta tête ou dans ton cul ? »  
  
"And in English it means," she paused to think of the translation. "Well it won't rhyme when I say it now, but basically a woman was in her kitchen and her husband got home late from the factory. She could smell the spirits on his breath so she took off her slipper and said sweetly, 'You have a choice honey, if your thoughts aren't too fuzzy for it. Do you want this shoe on your head or up your.' um, ass?"  
  
Rat grinned to hear her say the last word. "That's even better than I thought! Teach it to me," he demanded.  
  
They sang the song through three or four times together, but Rat sprinted away from her and back to his marbles quicker than a shot when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps coming up the stairs. She sighed inwardly to see the trademark scowl return to his brow as he hurriedly collected his prized marbles to keep them away from the other newsies who thought it all too easy to steal from someone half their size.  
  
As Jack Kelly and Kid Blink entered the room and Rat squeezed past them clutching his toys, Katie noticed a solitary marble that Rat had overlooked behind one of the bedposts. She bent to scoop it up and called to the fleeing boy, "Rat, you missed one!" But it was no good. She heard the door slam downstairs as he left the lodging house to find a safer corner for his game.  
  
"How do you always do that?" Jack Kelly barked, sounding almost annoyed.  
  
"Do what?" She answered his annoyance with her own. The boy's constant commanding tone was beginning to wear on her.  
  
"See stuff that no one else sees. You know, stuff folks drop or forget."  
  
"Is that a problem with you? That I pick up after people?"  
  
"Nah, I'd just like to see the pile of poke you got stashed somewhere."  
  
"If you are suggesting that I deliberately-"  
  
Blink broke in diffusing the brewing argument. "Hey, you know with an eye like that, you could make quite a career for yourself huntin' for gold out west. You know, lookin' for gold in all the rivers an' all."  
  
Racetrack walked in and caught the tale end of Blink's statement. "You plannin' a trip out west Katie? If y'are you'd better ask Cowboy here to come along to show you the way of it." He chuckled as he made his way over to the box of mended clothes and began rooting around for his faded vest.  
  
"Nah, she ain't." Blink answered. "But we sure do got ourselves a regular forty-niner around here." 


	10. Chapter 10

So here it is, another chapter, despite my depressing lack of reviews. Cards - thanks for being my one reviewer this time around! It was much appreciated! - Ursula  
  
The days had shortened and the cold winds had risen by the time Katie decided she was ready to show her story to Brian Denton at the Sun. She and Medda had already started their preparations for the Christmas Eve charity show Pulitzer had commissioned for the newsies. The thought of her life sewing rents and tears in the lodging house colliding with her life singing bawdily to gawping drunkards at Irving Hall made her palms sweat. She knew she had to convince Brian to accept her story before the boys discovered that she had been deceiving them because the likelihood that they would forgive her was slim to none.  
  
As she walked to the lodging house uncharacteristically early that morning in late November, it occurred to her how much she would miss spending time with some of those boys. She would miss those pleasant days spent sewing in the light of the bunkroom's window as various newsboys wandered in and out during their day's sales. Funny, the initial goal had been only to get her story published. She hadn't counted on getting personally attached to any of her subjects. She supposed Brian Denton had warned her before she'd even taken the assignment upon herself. He was a professional newsman, and even he wasn't immune to their charms. She hadn't counted on Racetrack's exaggerated gallantry or Kid Blink's jocular familiarity. She didn't think she'd grow to be fond of that scowling little newsie with his attempts at gruffness.  
  
Thinking of the newsies she was fond of led her naturally to consider the ones she wasn't so fond of. Pages and pages of her writing tablet were covered with complaints about the arrogance of Jack Kelly and she positively hated how happily he lorded his knowledge of her secret over her. Every time she was near him she felt an undeniable urge to punch him in the nose. The desire was nearly a reflex, much like the need to retract one's hand from a flame. Occasionally, her thoughts were haunted by the satisfying crunching sound his nose would make as she broke it. It was almost like a tune she couldn't get out of her head.  
  
And then there was Skittery. She didn't feel the need to break his nose, but she lost no love on him. His knowing her secret was less bearable than Jack knowing it since she couldn't seem to figure out the terms under which Skittery was keeping his mouth shut. As insufferable as she found Jack Kelly, he seemed to have some deep understanding of the importance of keeping one's business to oneself. Skittery obviously had no such compunctions and his intent was evidently to blackmail her into.something. She just wasn't sure what. His sexual advances were far too clumsy to be any threat to her; she'd lived her entire life in New York, most of it living and working practically on her own since Kevin couldn't be counted on for much protection, and that taught a girl something about self-defense. It certainly wasn't Skittery's physical presence that made her nervous; it was the fact that he was an unknown. He was one more variable in her already uncertain life.  
  
Hastily, she tried to abandon these unhappy thoughts as the lodging house came into view. She had things to take care of that morning and she couldn't spend too much time lost in her private musings. She reached the lodging house and explained to Kloppman why she was early. "I don't want to just go barging up there and well." her sentence trailed off in a blush.  
  
Kloppman smiled indulgently. "They should be ready to leave by now. If they're takin' their own sweet time in gettin' ready up there, it's their own fault if you catch one or two of 'em in their skivvies." Not relishing the thought of disturbing a roomful of newsboys in the midst of various states of undress but seeing there was no other way for it, Katie timidly climbed the stairs to the bunkroom and rapped loudly on the door. There was no answer. She could hear the muffled shouts and conversations of the boys just beyond the door, but they must not be able to hear her knocking. Remembering what Kloppman had said about it being their own fault if she caught them in their skivvies, she took a deep breath and entered the room.  
  
To her intense relief, she wasn't immediately confronted with nudity. Most of the visible boys looked ready to hit the streets, just as Kloppman had said they would be. In each face she saw a different degree of wakefulness. Some boys stumbled along with eyes only half open heedless of the other boys they bumped into in their stupor. Other boys ran pell-mell through the rows of bunks, playfully swatting their yawning friends, already prepared for the day's mischief. Kid Blink certainly belonged in this latter category and Racetrack only narrowly avoided a kick in the pants when Blink noticed Katie's unexpected presence. Most boys registered mild surprise at seeing her, but soon took her early arrival as an opportunity to advise her on how to care for certain articles of clothing they'd left for her to mend. She nodded at Mush, who, upon giving her advice on how to patch his pants, specified, "Fix the big hole, not the little one. That's supposed to be there," while turning her attention to Kid Blink, the one she'd come to see.  
  
"What brings you here so early this morning Niner?" Blink drawled, throwing one arm casually over her shoulder.  
  
"Well I figured I can already sew a button on faster than any of you mutton-heads so I can probably best you at sellin' papes while I'm at it." Blink laughed heartily like she knew he would at her statement and her attempt at a street accent.  
  
"No really, whaddaya want?"  
  
"I have a favor to ask you."  
  
"I thought you'd never ask." He cocked an eyebrow and grinned devilishly.  
  
"Not that kind of favor." She rolled her eyes and punched him on the arm as he mimed disappointment. "If I leave the box by your bunk could you collect for me tonight? I have an appointment this afternoon and I can't wait about for everyone to get back.  
  
"Yeah, sure." He looked confused.  
  
"It's nothing serious and I'll be back later in the week for business as usual. There's just some stuff I need to take care of this afternoon." She squeezed his arm in thanks as he bounded off to the washroom to do something about his hair that was attempting to defy gravity and sticking up at all angles.  
  
Skittery swaggered toward her and she resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. She wondered again what exactly he thought he was getting out of his supposed blackmail of her. He looked downward condescendingly as she settled into the rocking chair in the midst of the other boys' chaotic morning routine.  
  
"So Niner, that's what they're callin' you now, huh," he sneered.  
  
"I suppose." She shrugged, trying to ignore him.  
  
"So that makes nine of what?" he asked, nonchalantly picking some hair from her shoulder and twirling it idly between his thumb and forefinger. She impatiently tossed her head back, jerking the hair away from him, perhaps causing herself more pain than necessary since her action didn't seem to ruffle him in the least.  
  
"Nine lives maybe, like a cat?" he continued. "But no, what am I saying? Of course! I know what the nine is for." He bent down to hiss in her ear. "Nine guys left you haven't given it up to in this lodging house."  
  
He chuckled to see her jaw clench as she abruptly dropped the shirt she had been retrieving back into the mending box, her determination to ignore him destroyed. She was about to throw back an angry retort when Blink ambled up to them, his hair newly plastered to his head and his cheeks rosy pink from scrubbing. He stuck his finger in a large tear in the back of Skittery's shirt.  
  
"Whatsamadda Skitts? Tryin' to explain to Niner here how you can't sell enough papes in a month to pay her to fix this god-awful rip in your shirt?"  
  
Mush chimed in from across the room. "What you gonna give her instead of a penny? She won't settle for an ugly mug like yours!" This was met by a chorus of laughter from the surrounding boys.  
  
The smile faded from Skittery's face and then it was his jaw that was clenched. "I don't need her to fix my things," he mumbled, moving toward the door.  
  
The newsies started to filter out of the bunkroom and down the stairs. Jack replied to Skittery in passing. "C'mon Skitts, who else is gonna fix 'em? No other girl would come within a mile 'a you, penny or no penny." He slapped Skittery playfully on the arm and grinned, but Skittery was obviously not enjoying the joke.  
  
Even the usually mild-mannered Crutchy joined in the taunting on his way out of the room. "Heh heh, who could blame her what with a stench like that?" He held his nose in mock disgust as he hobbled down the stairs.  
  
"No worries, I'll collect for you tonight, and I won't even take a cut," Blink reassured Katie once more before following his friends out the door. "Hey Skitts, don't worry about the shirt. It's the hair I would lose sleep over." He grimaced and his laughter could be heard echoing up the stairwell as he made his way out of the building.  
  
That left Katie alone in the room with Skittery who was looking angrily at the door his friends had just walked through. His jaw was jutted forward almost defiantly and he kept clenching and unclenching his fists. Suddenly, his face just collapsed. His mouth opened soundlessly and he bent double, covering his face with his hands. He was completely silent, but there was no way Katie could mistake his violently shaking shoulders for anything other than sobs. She stared at him, shocked and uncomfortable. Had he forgotten she was there? He looked so miserable; she couldn't help herself from standing and taking a few steps toward him.  
  
Evidently he had not forgotten her. He straightened up and glared at her through slitted eyes that still glistened with tears he had yet to shed. His face was damp and red from his crying. "Bet you can't wait to tell them all about this," he growled huskily.  
  
She started to reach out to touch his shoulder comfortingly, but drew her hand back quickly, torn between his obvious distress and her own ambivalence towards him. "No, I -" She tried again, reaching for his shoulder and guiding him gently toward the rocking chair. "If you just sit I can fix that for you in a minute and you won't even have to take your shirt off." He followed her dumbly, and she was relieved he didn't immediately return to his senses and taunt her. He sank leadenly onto the floor in front of the rocking chair and she sat behind him with her needle and thread. She had only halfway repaired the rent in his shirt when his shoulders started shaking slightly once again. Her sense of pity overwhelming her dislike, she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Hey, it's okay." Not knowing what else to do, she started to hum a lullaby her mother used to use to put her to sleep when she was young. The miserable boy put his head in her lap and she gently smoothed his hair as if he were only a young boy of four or five. Katie did not know what to think. This vulnerable boy in front of her was nothing like the brash, heartless Skittery she had known. They sat together for quite some time. She even let him kiss her a little, not because she felt he forced her to, but because she felt he needed it.  
  
The sun rose higher in the sky, and by midmorning Katie slowly extracted herself from Skittery's clumsy embrace. "I have to go," she explained. "Are you going to be alright?"  
  
He looked disappointed, but nodded. "I -"  
  
She stopped him with a gesture. "Don't worry, I won't tell any of the guys." She smiled at his look of relief. "Now you go try and make something of your day. I have an appointment to make." As she walked slowly down the lodging house steps, she smiled softly to herself. Whatever else should happen, she knew she would never have to worry about Skittery's threats again. 


	11. Chapter 11

A big thank you to GypsyRuth and Cards for being my sole two reviewers this time around! It means a lot. Hope you enjoy the latest installment.  
  
Before entering the imposing offices of the New York Sun, Katie carefully pinned a hat on her head and smoothed her dress the best she could. She didn't want to walk into Brian Denton's office looking like the naïve newcomer she most certainly was. She kept her eyes down and avoided the questioning glances of the newsmen as she sought out Brian Denton's office. The haggard looking men were obviously not used to seeing attractive young women in their dingy smoke-clouded lair. Brian's office, as it turned out, was not really an office, so much as a desk with a typewriter and a wastepaper basket pushed against one of the walls, slightly apart from the other desks in the long room. His colleagues were on their way to lunch in some similarly gloomy diner a block away from the office and Denton looked ready to join them after organizing one last time the stacks of paper on his desk when Katie approached him, trying to look confident with her heart in her throat.  
  
He looked up at the sound of her footsteps and smiled warmly to see his friend's sister again. "Well Katie, how nice to see you again." He motioned to a chair on the other side of the desk and Katie sat down, smiling nervously. "How's your brother holding up? I'm so sorry I wasn't able to find a job for him here; I know how badly he wants to get working again." He looked at her sympathetically.  
  
"Thank you so much for your concern Mr. Denton." He held his hand up in a warning gesture. "Brian," she corrected herself. "We're getting by just fine."  
  
"I had a feeling," he said, smiling. "So, what can I do for you today?" His friendly tone and relaxed attitude put her at ease, and although she still fervently hoped he would accept her story, she no longer felt so nervous that the prospect of emptying the contents of her stomach onto his desk seemed imminent.  
  
"Well," she began, clearing her throat, "I was hoping you'd take a look at something I've written."  
  
"Why of course; I'd love to."  
  
She hastily removed a sheet of paper from her pocket and handed it to the man across the desk. He glanced at it and whistled through his teeth.  
  
"You wrote my newsboy follow-up for me?"  
  
"Yes, I was hoping that.well, I was hoping." she realized for the first time just how foolish what she had been hoping for was. How could she, a young girl who couldn't even hold down a job at a knitting mill, possibly even hope to be published in a paper like the Sun? Brian impatiently held up his hand to silence her stammering as he read what she had written.  
  
How Newsboys Changed the World by Katie Smith  
  
Joseph Pulitzer's multimillion-dollar enterprise has not been left unscathed in the aftermath of the newsboys' strike of last spring. In the wake of the public's uprising in defense of the working children of New York City, supported largely by Governor Theodore Roosevelt, the New York World has taken various measures to improve the working conditions of its underage employees. In addition to revoking his earlier price augmentation of one tenth of a cent per paper to each working newsboy, aides to Mr. Pulitzer have also commissioned vaudeville performances free of charge for the newsboys to celebrate most major holidays. The first of these charity events will take place December 24 at Manhattan's Irving Hall and will be spearheaded by the building's proprietress, Miss Medda Larkson, locally known as the Swedish Meadowlark and a woman who, ironically, was strongly linked to the newsboy's cause during their brief but effective battle against Pulitzer and his newspaper empire. If all goes well with the Christmas performance, other engagements may follow to celebrate Easter and Independence Day.  
  
When asked to comment on the recent reforms made by Pulitzer and his staff, many newsboys expressed suspicion as to their employer's motives. A newsboy known as Kid Blink expressed his widely held opinion in an interview granted to this reporter in the November following the strike. "Pulitzer would never do anything good for nobody unless he could see something good for himself in the bargain. If you ask me, the guy's just as ready to stab us in the back as he is to give us something for nothing." Although a few newsboys, including one referred to as Crutchy, seem to be willing to believe that Joseph Pulitzer is truly attempting to change for the better after the realization of his moral misdeeds, the prevailing opinion among the young workers seems to be that of Kid Blink. Larkson expressed a similar opinion and gave the newsboys themselves, in particular a certain Jack Kelly, who declined to comment for this article, a great deal of credit for changing their own working conditions. During an interview, the star of the vaudeville stage was quoted as saying, "Those boys certainly did stop the World in its tracks and made sure Pulitzer knew the sun wasn't rising again without the help of the newsies." Joseph Pulitzer and the administrative staff at the New York World declined to comment on their reforms.  
  
"Hmm," he said when he had finished, leaning back in his chair and chuckling softly.  
  
She held her breath, waiting for his reaction. A little put-off by his chuckling, she leaned forward and asked, with her brow furrowed, "What? What is it? Is it that bad?" hoping she didn't sound too eager for his approval.  
  
"Bad? No. On the contrary, it's quite a good newspaper article. I especially like the way you stuck it to old Joe Pulitzer in the end. Declined to comment." He chuckled again. She smiled in relief. "However, a good newspaper article is not at all what I expected from you. Just recounting the news, it lacks the real passion for the written word that I got a glimpse of the other night in your apartment. When you just stick to the facts, you don't get a chance to express the feelings, the emotions that I know you have." Her smile faded, thinking of the pages and pages of raw emotion she had poured into her little writing tablet that she had deemed unacceptable for a news article, and rapidly seeing her dreams of a byline in the Sun fading. "Nonetheless," he continued, "it is a well written article." Her mood brightened. "I'm going to talk to my editor and see what I can do to get this published. Now I can't promise you much of a paycheck."  
  
"No, of course not," she babbled excitedly.  
  
".but maybe he'll consider it since it didn't exactly involve him paying any of his staff writers to do the grunt work. It is really a very well written piece Katie, but keep in mind what I said about expressing yourself. Ideally, that's what a real writer does. I'll be in touch. Now, I'm sorry to rush off, but if you'll just excuse me, I have an interview to get to across town in thirty minutes."  
  
"Of course! Oh, thank you so much Brian!" She had to fight off her sudden urge to hug him harder and tighter than she'd ever hugged anyone before in her life.  
  
Turning to go, Brian stopped her with a question. "Katie, did Jack really refuse to answer your questions for this article?"  
  
She smiled in response. "No, I just didn't think the public would be very interested to hear more of his self-adulation." She shrugged as Brian barked with laughter.  
  
As she stepped out of the Sun building into the chill wind, Katie couldn't restrain her ear-to-ear grin as the vision of her story on the front page rushed back into her mind's eye with startling clarity. 


	12. Chapter 12

Katie tried to fight down her disappointment when she heard nothing from Brian Denton about her story for the Sun. As time passed, other things occupied her thoughts. Christmas Eve was fast approaching, and she knew that after the newsies benefit at Irving Hall, her secret would be revealed, and she would probably lose the only real friends she'd found. Now that her story was finished, she had considered just telling them, it would be so nice to finally be honest with Blink and Race, but she felt caught in her lie. There was never a good time to say, "I've been lying to you since the day we met." Also, she cringed when she thought of all the newsies giving her the same leering looks she continued to receive from Jack Kelly if they knew she was only a cheap vaudeville performer.  
  
As December 24th neared, she became increasingly distracted. She sewed buttons on too tightly and spent long periods of time just staring out the lodging house window, her writing tablet open on her lap, all mending forgotten. She jumped when people spoke to her and was often short with Rat. She went through the motions every night at Medda's, and the crowds continued to respond to her favorably, but she couldn't stop seeing the faces of her friends in every audience, imagining the shock, disappointment, anger, and finally disdain she was sure she would see there. Every night after her performance, she collapsed in the dressing room, agitated and shaken. Even Medda noticed her protégé's growing distress. Finally, before Katie's performance on the 23rd, Medda approached her as she was dressing. As Katie laced her corset and arranged her curls, Medda paced awkwardly behind her. Katie could tell there was something Medda wanted to say, and she had never seen her normally overbearing employer so hesitant.  
  
"If you don't stop, you're likely to wear those boards straight through to the foundation." She smiled wanly, all she seemed to be able to muster lately.  
  
Medda stopped, her hands fluttered to her breast, and she cleared her throat, adopting a concerned expression.  
  
"Katie, I've noticed some differences in your behavior lately, and I thought we should have a chat.I've employed girls your age before, so I'm no stranger to what goes on in your life. It wasn't so long ago I was living it!" She giggled girlishly and Katie privately thought that it had actually been a considerable amount of time since Medda had lived the life of a young woman.  
  
"I've had girls who've had to leave here before, and I don't want that to be your lot. You and me work well together and the crowds seem to like you."  
  
Katie turned from the mirror to face her employer. "Medda, what are you getting at? I'm not looking to leave here any time soon, unless you fire me of course."  
  
"I'm not blind!" Medda fairly shrieked. She took a deep breath and began again, calmer. "I see you've got something on your mind. You were never exactly a chatterbox, but you've clammed up completely. And you've always got that worried expression on your face, like someone's gonna come up behind you with a knife!"  
  
Katie shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. How could she explain what was bothering her to Medda? Then, Medda said the last thing Katie could've expected.  
  
"Katie, if you're in some kind of trouble.I mean, I see how often Jack Kelly comes back here." For the first time that Katie had ever heard, there was distaste in Medda's voice as she uttered her favorite newsie's name. ".and, well, I know someone who could take care of it for you. He's a real professional and it practically doesn't hurt at all -"  
  
Katie burst out laughing. It was all she could think to do. Medda stopped mid-sentence and looked at her, perplexed.  
  
"Well I really don't see what there is to laugh about. It was just a suggestion and -"  
  
"Medda, what on earth would have made you think I was pregnant?" For the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled a genuine, amused smile. "And certainly not with Jack Kelly's baby!" She chuckled. She checked herself one last time in the mirror and stood, taking Medda by the shoulders. "I promise you, you never have to worry about any of that with me. Now, I have to go on; I think the crowd's probably had enough of Toby by now. She left the dressing room still chuckling, Medda staring confusedly at her back.  
  
The absurdity of Medda's assumption left a happy feeling of gaiety that lingered in Katie's performance that night. She smiled at the drunkards as they hooted and, in general, felt better than she had in days. She was still humming the bubbly phrases of "My Lovey Dovey Baby" and smiling to herself as she sat in the dressing room after her performance and began her nightly ritual of removing her stage make-up. She heard the door open and close behind her and turned to see Jack Kelly, and all the happiness she had been feeling flooded out to be replaced by all the old anxieties. Her chest tightened and her brow furrowed; a lead weight settled into her stomach.  
  
He exhaled his cigarette smoke through his nose. "Good show tonight."  
  
"Hmm." She turned back to the mirror, knowing that he probably wouldn't leave and that ignoring him was the best way to annoy him and drive him away. She pursed her lips and attacked her rouged cheeks with a handkerchief.  
  
Apparently not in the mood for his usual attempts at witty seduction, he took a few steps into the room and said, "Look, I know what you're worried about." Her action with the handkerchief slowed to a stop, but she didn't turn to face him, too worried about what he'd say. "And I don't think you should be. The boys, they-well, they seem to like you, and not just because you look good in a skirt." His smirk was gone as soon as it had appeared. "I just don't think this'll change that."  
  
Slowly, she turned to face him, surprisingly devoid of any desire to hit him. She wasn't sure if what he said could possibly be the truth, but his candor was arresting. "Thanks."  
  
He took a long drag and avoided her eyes. "Yeah, well, anything to get me in your good graces." He smirked and she rolled her eyes. "I'll go. I'll see you tomorrow though."  
  
"Right. Tomorrow." 


	13. Chapter 13

She went to the lodging house on Christmas Eve for what she assumed would be the last time. The sight of the full basket of clothes to be mended in the bunkroom and the knowledge that she probably wouldn't finish all of them that day made tears spring to her eyes. She wiped her eyes hurriedly when she heard a door slam somewhere in the washroom and mustered a smile when Rat wandered into the bunkroom, hair still tousled from sleep.

"You're getting a late start today, aren't you? Or has Jack said you have to stay home for stealing from old Pam again? That's bad business Rat. You know that the older you get, the less likely the other boys will be to cover your lodging when you don't make enough in a day to pay for it. You wouldn't want to be sleeping on the streets again, would you?" She shook her head.

"No, it's not like that." He scowled. "I'm goin' out. I just-I just had to do somethin' first."

"Oh really? And what's that?"

Quickly, as if he knew he'd lose his nerve, his grimy hands pushed something into hers and he bolted for the door. He was gone before she could look down and see the folded page he'd given her. It was a simple card, drawn with smudgy pencil. "Merry Crismas" was scrawled on the front and inside was a surprisingly adept drawing of a little boy holding a newspaper in the air, his mouth wide open hawking headlines. Behind him stooped a figure in a skirt, picking up a penny. She covered her mouth as her surprised smile quickly became a sob and sat heavily in the rocking chair. She knew it was her own fault for abusing the trust of the little boy, but the thought of leaving her cheerful domestic life at the lodging house, which had become more of a home for her than the dingy apartment she shared with Kevin, was more than she could bear. She bent double in the chair and rocked back and forth with sobs, her tears staining the front of her dress.

But she couldn't stay like that for long. As sad as the demise of her friendships made her feel, her life had taught her that crying would ultimately do no good and solve no problems. Sniffing back the last of her tears, she took the first sock from the basket and began to work, resolving to behave as if today were any other day and forget what the evening would bring.

Of course she couldn't really forget, but she forced herself to make it through most of the basket by the time the first few newsies trudged in from their day on the streets. She managed a smile as they approached her with their pennies, and even tried to laugh as they recounted the day's antics. When Blink neared her to retrieve his patched trousers, however, her resolve left her. She had to turn her gaze to the floor and could not meet his eye.

"Looks like you did good business today, hey niner." His jovial small talk made her have to bite her lip to keep from crying.

"Yes, it looks that way."

"Well, look, you've got my pants in that heap, but there's just one problem. I couldn't find nobody to go in with for the mending, so I owe you a half a cent, and normally I'd just give you the whole penny but I'm kinda short this week so –"

"Just take them."

"Now, I can't –"

"I can't have done a very good job with them anyway. They're so threadbare, there's practically nothing left. So just take them. I mean, Merry Christmas, right?" For the first time, she looked into his eyes, and what he saw there stopped any further protest he would have made.

"Well, geez. I don't have a present for you or anything."

"That's alright. I don't mind." She handed him the trousers.

He brightened as an idea occurred to him. "Hey, you wanna come to the show with us at Irving Hall tonight? It's free for all us newsies and I'm sure Medda wouldn't mind one extra. It's s'posed to be a pretty good show with some new girl none of us ain't never seen."

"I wish I could," she answered, barely audible, "but I've got a story to finish up tonight. Deadlines, you know?"

"Oh yeah, right." He hesitated. "Hey, niner, you alright?"

"Of course." She tried to sound bright although she felt at any minute her façade might crack and she would explode in a flurry of tears. "Right as rain."

He smiled. "Right. Well, see you tomorrow then."

She knew she wouldn't see him tomorrow, and hurried out of the lodging house, leaving even before she had collected payment for all of her work. She practically ran to Irving Hall and was out of breath when she pulled open the stage door, not even feeling the chill of the December air.

"You're late!" scolded Medda from down the hall, and she dashed into the dressing room. She dressed quickly, but knew she had several minutes before she had to go onstage; Medda was hamming it up more than usual that night for her adolescent audience. She fished her writing tablet from her bag and wrote some final phrases about the newsies, about what she'd learned of friendship and of life from her time with them. She closed the book sadly, laid it on the couch, took a deep breath, and went to wait in the wings for her first number to begin.

As she left the room, she heard Toby's gruff voice scolding an intruder. "Hey! There's not supposed to be anyone but performers and stagehands back here. If you want to see Medda, you've got to stay out front after the show."

"I'm not here to see Medda, you fool! I'm here to see Katie! I've got something I need to tell her tonight."

"Well you can't see her neither." Katie recognized that second voice, and she rushed in the direction of the confrontation, rounding the corner just in time to see Toby trying to push Brian Denton out the door.

"Brian!" she called.

Toby turned to look at her and grunted. "You're not supposed to have no visitors back here."

"Toby, that is one rule I have never heard uttered around this place. Now please let Mr. Denton go and I'll deal with the consequences of his presence myself."

Giving Brian one last shove, Toby stomped off in the direction of the small equipment room, where Katie knew he had a bottle of whisky stashed. Brian smiled at her and replaced his hat atop his newly disheveled hair.

"I'm so sorry about that Brian."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I have something important I think you'll be glad to see." He handed her a newspaper he had tucked underneath his arm. "It's an advance copy of tomorrow's early edition." There it was. On page eleven, nestled between a small piece about the City's problematic population of homeless cats and another detailing the robbery of a wealthy New Jersey home, was her story: How Newsboys Changed the _World_. And underneath, in neat newsprint, was her byline: Katie Smith, reporter.

She yelped and threw her arms around the man standing before her. "I can't believe it! Thank you so much!"

"Well, I didn't have to do much. It's a good piece, and my editor saw that. Well done Katie."

"Thank you," she said, bewildered, staring at the page in front of her. "Thank you."

"I thought you might like to know that I stopped by the newsie's lodging house earlier this evening and showed it to them. They were all very proud. Racetrack said something about you owing him a cigar?"

She blinked once, twice, trying to process this new piece of information. Her friends had seen her story, so at least they would know she hadn't been lying to them about being a reporter. A weight lifted. Maybe the boys would respect her less once they learned about her job as a singer at Medda's, but at least she couldn't be accused of lying.

Brian gave her a fatherly look, one of the sort she had never received from Kevin, and she felt that maybe somehow he understood her predicament with the newsies. "Have fun out there tonight. I know your friends are probably excited to see you perform."

"Well, they have been talking about the show for some time now. It sounds like they're having a fairly good time already." The hoots and hollers from the auditorium were clearly audible as the two stood in the chilly entrance. "I should probably go, my number's up soon."

Brian smiled and tipped his hat.


	14. Chapter 14

She was no ingénue. Having done this same routine nightly for months at a time, she thought she had done with stage fright. But of course she knew it wasn't really stage fright she was feeling per se. Only the fear that when she stepped onto that stage from the wings, only silence would greet her as her friends realized who she really was and their good feelings toward her changed forever to those of disgust. But in the end, there was really nothing for it, was there? She couldn't very well walk out on the only steady source of income she had. Behind her rouged and powdered cheeks and carefully engineered smile, she thought fleetingly before making her entrance from the wings that perhaps the elaborate costume would be enough to throw them off. Perhaps they wouldn't recognize their old friend Niner clad in satin and bows with ridiculously curled hair and a painted face. But even her last ditch optimism couldn't convince her that could be true. She had fallen for this gang of boys for their sharpness, their wit; they wouldn't be fooled by the bells and whistles of the stage.

And then it was too late, the intro bars started playing and Katie made her entrance onto the stage at Irving Hall just has she had done for countless nights before, her smile playful as she slunk her way to center stage, forgetting the boys, forgetting her plight, and just performing effortlessly, as all truly good performers do, not thinking of the future but only of the present. Where her feet should be on that downbeat and how to flick her hair in the most alluring fashion before she began to sing, her voice full and throaty.

She had been wrong about the silence, and had she been thinking clearly beforehand, she would have realized the impossibility that an entire hall full of rowdy boys (of which only forty at most were her acquaintances) would have recognized her on stage and fallen silent immediately. She had arrived at the bridge, the point in the song when she stopped singing to do some flirtatious dancing and listen to Hal, the trumpet player, blare some suggestive sounding lines, when she heard (or fancied she heard) a distinctly familiar hoot from the audience followed by a chorus of well-known shouts. Perhaps Medda had been right in what she said about Jack Kelly being a true leader of the boys. With renewed confidence and vigor, Katie attacked the rest of the song, singing with more pleasure than she had felt in ages.

Medda, watching from the wings, shook her head and thought, almost maliciously, but more begrudgingly, "Well, if the girl hasn't found herself in trouble by now, with a smile like that it shouldn't be long."

She finished her number and two encores to tremendous applause from the audience, and finally exited the stage only to find a fair crowd of faces awaiting her in the wings. The first face she saw was Blink's, on which she couldn't find any outright signs of anger, although his confusion was plain. She hugged him tightly, and he said, shaking his head, "You pick up odd jobs like pennies Niner."

Racetrack nudged between their embrace and half-whispered, "Say Katie, you workin' on a undercovah story? You know, da scandals of vaudeville?"

She chuckled, a bit overwhelmed by her friends' lack of yelling and strong language. "No Race, no undercover here. Medda prefers to air our dirty laundry out in the open." A comment for which she received a sound thwack on the shoulder from one of Medda's oversized feathered fans.

She felt a smaller newsie tugging at her skirt, and looked down to see Rat, poking confusedly at her strategically torn stockings. "Hey, _hey!_," he said, obviously feeling he had something important to contribute. "How come you can fix every piece of clothes I got so that none 'a the wind gets in 'em at all, but you still got all these holes down here?" Katie laughed out loud along with several of the older boys.

"Well Rat, maybe if you took better care of your own things, I'd have more time to look after mine." She tousled his hair affectionately, and his answering scowl showed a half-smile as well.

"Well well well. If it isn't my little star of the stage." Jack Kelly swaggered to the front of the crowd of well-wishers, and Katie surprisingly didn't have to fight back the urge to slug him. "Good show."

"Thanks."

"Well, ya know if you want I can get rid of all these mugs back here an' we can head over to your dressing room…?" He winked at her, but she got the feeling it was more jokingly said than anything. When she didn't respond to his baiting, he was surprised. "What, no bitter retort? No slap in the face? You're gettin' soft Niner."

She sighed at him and cocked her head to one side. "No, not tonight I don't think."

"Hey look Niner," said Blink, "we're all headin' over to Tibby's for some eats. We'd love to treat our favorite star, not to mention our favorite newspaper reporter, if you'd come along."

Katie smiled at him, relieved that her profession as vaudeville entertainer seemed to be a non-issue with the boys. Whatever they thought about it, they didn't seem eager to take her to task for her lies. Not only had her story been printed, her friends seemed to be taking her deception in stride, which was none too surprising, considering that many of the newsies had pasts that they didn't share with their fellow street urchins, either from shame or fear. No one really knew what was behind Kid Blink's eye patch or why Mush slept with a pair of brass knuckles under his pillow. Jack Kelly had been right when he said that everyone had secrets, and perhaps no group had more than the newsboys of New York.

"Yeah sure, I'd love to come. Just give me some time to get out of these clothes and take off all this make-up."

"Nah, leave it on," said Mush, slinging his arm over her shoulder. "It's nice to see you lookin' like a real girl for a bit Niner."

"Are you joking? I can't leave the theater dressed like this! Everyone on the street will think I'm – " she stopped, suddenly embarrassed by what she was about to say. "Everyone will think I'm – well, they'll think I'm a –a _loose woman_." She lowered her voice for the last part, and Racetrack laughed heartily.

"Yeah, but you're _our_ loose woman Niner."

"And besides," chimed in Jack Kelly, "who's gonna mess with you with the newsies around?"

She smiled. "Alright. Let me get my coat."

She ran back to her dressing room and rummaged through the pile of clothing she'd left out on the couch in search of her coat. Taking into account the revolving door of visitors that always seemed to find their way back to her dressing room, she wasn't surprised to hear the door open and close again shortly after she had entered.

"I told ya they'd take it alright, didn't I?" Jack drawled as he took a few steps into the room.

"Yeah, yeah you did," she answered not turning around. "You did say that. Look, I'm just going to be a second, I just have to find my – "

"You did real good tonight though." He cut her off midway through her thought.

"Yeah, you said that already." She smiled, stopping her search and turning to face him.

"Well," he paused to blow a puff of cigarette smoke pensively out his nose, "I mean it."

Not entirely sure why she was doing it, what possessed her, she stood on her toes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. He turned his head at just the wrong moment (or perhaps it was at just the right one?) and kissed her deeply, pulling her to him with one arm slung tightly around her waist.

Stepping back, she looked at him steadily. "I should get my coat." Grabbing the garment from the couch and moving toward the door, she motioned for Jack to follow her.

"I'll be right out."

She shrugged and smiled, tucking a stray curl behind her ear as she exited the dressing room.


	15. Chapter 15

Tibby's was crowded for a Christmas Eve, full of mostly male patrons with nowhere else to go, or with a place they would rather not go to. The newsies walked in like they owned the joint, but Cook saw them coming and rolled his eyes, hoping they wouldn't be expecting too many handouts. Of course, handouts were all they were expecting, none of them having money to spend on a night out. Fortunately, there was one patron at Tibby's that night who had correctly assumed the newsies would be heading there after their show at Irving Hall, an old friend to the boys, and one with reasonably deep pockets, Brian Denton. He had come to see his old friends and to congratulate the New York Sun's newest reporter on her editorial debut.

"Well if it ain't the king of New York !" trilled Racetrack in his best hoity-toity accent. "To what do we owe the pleasure? Twice in one evening. What, are you hard up for story ideas too?"

"Well, I thought I'd buy a drink for the hardest working reporter in New York. I figured I could tell you guys about it, but you're too stingy to shell out the extra pennies to give a proper congratulations."

"Well Denton, I should probably get mad about that insult. I really should. But you know what?" Race paused for dramatic effect. "You're perfectly right."

Katie laughed an swatted him on the arm. "Well I guess I know who my friends are."

"Cook," yelled Denton to the unsavory looking man at one end of the small bar at the back of Tibby's. "Could we get a round of drinks for my friends here? Just put anything they need on my tab and I'll come by to take care of it tomorrow." He turned back to Katie and the crowd of boys. "Well, I really did just want to say congratulations again. It looks like you've got a bright future ahead of you Miss Smith. Now I don't want to be a damper on the fun you kids have planned here tonight. No sense throwing an old man into the mix to ruin the celebratory mood. You just order whatever you want and you can thank Katie here for my good will."

"Thank you so much Brian. Are you sure you don't want to stay for a bit?"

"Well Katie, it looks like you've got your hands full in the male admirer department," Brian said, smiling goofily. "But I hope to see you turning up at the office with another article for me sometime soon." He traded a few playful punches with Kid Blink before leaving the restaurant. It was obvious that Brian had gotten something more than a good story from the newsies, they made him feel like a young man again fighting the good fight rather than a struggling newspaper reporter rapidly approaching middle age. They took him away from his life and the problems in it, just as they took Katie away from her struggles with poverty and with her brother.

Katie was interrupted from her brief reverie as Mush handed her a drink, a glass of some cloudy foul smelling substance, probably what at Tibby's passed for gin.

The newsies were more than willing to take advantage of Brian Denton's good will, and the drinks flowed freely as they toasted Katie, Denton, Medda, there were even a few toasts offered to Pulitzer and his charity concert.

Late in the evening, Kid Blink, Racetrack, Mush, and Crutchy were huddled around a small table. Katie noticed Rat pacing around the densely packed table, trying to find a place to interject. Katie caught snippets of the boys' conversation, although she was sure it wasn't meant for her ears.

"…So I went to drop her at her place the next morning, and her pa was there with a shotgun!" This was followed by much laughter and back slapping among the four friends.

"Hey c'mon guys, what are you talkin' about? Hey guys, is there room for me?"

"Nah Rat, this kinda talk's got nothin' to do with you. Hell, its barely go anything to do with Race." Kid Blink tried to shoo Rat away.

Racetrack slapped Blink on the back of the head. "One more of those and you'll be getting a lot more than a smack on the head."

"Oooo, look at me, I'm shakin'."

Remembering Rat's desire to be a part of the older boys' "rowdy stories," Katie approached the table.

"Well hello boys. I certainly hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Aw Niner, we was just getting' to the good stuff," whined Mush.

"Well I think that perhaps there's someone here who'd like to tell a story of his own." Katie smiled and scooped a struggling Rat onto the table top, scowling at being treated like a child. She whispered in his ear to keep him quiet. "Come on, I'll keep time, you sing!" She started stomping her heeled shoe on the rough boards of the floor and started Rat off with the first few words… "_Une femme s'est assise dans sa cuisine_…"

Rat's face brightened, and he picked up the melody from Katie.

"_Son mari entrait tard de l'usine _

_Elle pouvait sentir la bière sur son souffle_

_Elle s'est enlevée doucement sa pantoufle_

_Elle lui a dit dans une voix très douce_

_« Tu doit prendre une décision mon pouce »_

_(Ben, si tes pensées ne sont pas trop floues)_

_Ma chaussure sur ta tête ou dans ton cul ? »" _

As Rat sang and Katie kept time, she bent over and whispered the lyrics' meaning to Kid Blink, who promptly spit out the sip of drink he had just taken and started clapping along enthusiastically with Katie's beat. The translation made the rounds quickly, and by the time Rat had finished the song, all of the boys were clapping and stomping to encourage him. When he finished, he was absolutely beaming. The boys were quick to humor the youngest member of their bunch. There was some brief applause, and another round of drinks was ordered by all.

It was late when Katie stumbled out of Tibby's to find her way home. The frosty winter air went a long way to clear her head, and by the time she got to the apartment building she shared with Kevin, she knew enough to keep quiet as she turned her key in the lock. But no amount of stealth would have done her any good, for she found Kevin standing directly in front of the door, glowering. He took her by both arms and shook her roughly.

"Where have you been? That woman – " Kevin always referred to Medda as "that woman" as if what she did was so shameful, he couldn't even utter her name. "came here hours ago. Said she wanted to congratulate you for something. She didn't know where you were! So where have you been spending your nights?" He stepped back to get a better look at her. "All dressed up like some trollop wearing practically nothing with your face covered in make up like whore! What was she here to congratulate you for? A record number of Johns in an evening?"

He grasped her arms so tightly that Katie started crying, desperate to defend herself but unable to distract her brother from venting his thoughts about the dishonour she was showing their family.

"I knew, I knew the minute you got a job at that place that it was only a matter of time before you let them take advantage of you. How long did you wait Katie, huh? How long before you were taking those disgusting leering men back to your dressing room to show them what was under that cheap costume?"

She drew her hand back to deliver an angry slap at this last comment, but he grabbed her arm again, preventing any retaliatory blow. "How could you say such hurtful things?" she sobbed. "Don't you know I would never – "

"It doesn't matter now anyway."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter?"

"I mean the mill's hiring again. I went there this morning and got us both signed up. You start at 6, so clean that filth off your face and get to bed. And I should warn you, they won't tolerate any of your whorish ways there. I don't know if you remember what its like to do honest work for a living, but there'll be no back room where you can spread your legs for whatever foreman takes your fancy. Now get to bed." He pushed her away as if he couldn't stand to touch her for a minute longer and stormed out of the room.

Katie sunk to the floor in the middle of the room, too desperate to even find a chair. She took the folded newspaper from where it had been tucked under her jacket and held it up to the space her brother had just been. "Merry Christmas," she whispered.


	16. Chapter 16

When the bell rang for the fifteen minute noon break at the mill the next day, Katie trudged out of the enormous iron gates as if in a trance. She had only returned to working at the factory a short seven hours earlier, but already the monotony of the work was taking its toll. Shoving those lengths of material into the jaws of the waiting machine and waiting the required five seconds as the blades crushed together and split the required amount from the larger whole before pushing more material into the endlessly hungry maw of the great black monster put her into a sort of stupor. She remembered isolated moments from the days she had spent working in the lodging house, the way the sun had played on the bunks as she worked in her little chair, the sound of three dozen noisy boys on their way out for the day's work, the din made by their pounding feet on the floorboards was an entirely different racket from the metallic clang and belch of the mill.

Just breathing the fresh air, despite its frozen chill, made Katie feel more alive, although she knew that it only made going back into the building after the break all the more difficult. She scanned the street outside the factory, hoping to see a familiar face so she could let the newsies know she hadn't abandoned them. They had been so accepting of her ; she could only imagine what conclusions her sudden non-appearance at the lodging house had caused them to draw.

She didn't have to look for very long before spotting Jack Kelly loping towards her through the crowd of other mill girls.

"Oh Jack!" She ran to him and threw her arms around him, fairly jumping into the air to do it. "I would have told you, only my brother signed me up last night and I had no idea until I got home – "

Jack stepped back abruptly out of her embrace. The way he looked at her was similar to the way her brother had looked at her the night before, only with more hurt showing through the anger.

"Jack, what is - ?"

"You left something at Irving Hall last night."

"Did I? I didn't notice, I was in such a hurry to leave…"

"Your notebook. I found it. I read it."

"Oh. Well, you know it wasn't really something I meant for other people to – "

"How could you write those things? All those things about us, about the newsies, about Rat, Skittery, about _me?_"

"Jack, I – "

"Forget it. It's a good thing you've found a place for yourself here, because I don't want you around me and the boys no more. You'd just better – " he pointed at her as if he were about to say something but couldn't find the words. "You'd just better stay away. We don't want nothing to do with you and your spying and your lies!" He stopped for a moment to get himself under control and swiped his hand angrily across his face. "And if you're lookin' to buy a papah, I'd stay away from the World too. Why don't you try the Sun? I hear they're hard up for subscribers."

He turned to stalk away, and no amount of Katie's pleading would make him turn around. She wanted to run after him, to tell him that what she wrote in that notebook had been exactly what she'd felt at that moment, the impressions she'd formed day by day and minute by minute of the newsboys, their culture and their leader. And maybe if she had it back now, she would fill it with different thoughts, different impressions, show things in a better light, because that was what drew her to the newsboys' life: its vibrancy, its constant ability to change at the drop of a hat, the way it positively hummed with life and all of its messy details.

The whistle blew, and instead of following after Jack to explain to him how dear all of the boys had become to her, how dear he had so suddenly become to her, Katie turned and trudged again, head down, into the waiting dark of the mill and its endless hours of toil.

Katie's hours at the mill became days which quickly blended into weeks and months, each moment indistinguishable from the last, punctuated only by the regular crunch and thud of the machines. At first, she thought often and longingly of the newsies, of Blink and Race and Rat, revisiting every instant they had spent together and fervently lamenting their revised opinion of her. For she could only assume that was the reason they never came by the mill to see her or they never got word to her through Kevin or Pam, who she still visited on occasion to buy an apple when she wasn't working. She wondered for awhile whether Jack had shared her writings with the other boys and whether they looked on her with as much scorn as their "cowboy" did, but she soon realized that it didn't matter who Jack had shown her work to, the other boys would follow the example of their leader, because if they didn't have the reassuring structure of their miniature society to keep them together, how would they survive? The newsies were family to one another, and the boys would no sooner think to counteract Jack's decisions than Katie would think to disobey her brother and go running from the mill, turning her back on her responsibilities and obligations.

After awhile Katie's questions about the hows and the whys of her ostricisation from the newsies faded to a pleasant fantasy of doing just what she could not, of someday leaving the mill to never return and running to the lodging house where her friends would welcome her with open arms and explain that they had all suffered a terrible bout with the flu that winter and that's why they had been unable to visit her while she was working.

But with time even these fantasies faded, and she spent her hours at the mill in a sort of blankness, a sort of half sleep which only required her to move her arms briefly, every five seconds. She didn't chatter with the other workers, only stared unseeingly at the machine in front of her. The constant _Thunk thunk_ of the metallic jaws lulled her into a stupor, and nothing woke her form this waking dream.

Even Kevin noticed Katie's change in attitude, although he appreciated her new "respectful" stance towards him rather than seeing anything amiss in her behavior. In his eyes he had saved his sister from a life of sin and iniquity, it was only right that she defer to him on all decisions, even if that meant she never spoke to him unless he required a direct answer, a simple _yes_ or _no_ was all he could hope for.

One day, like any other, heedless of the fact that leaves were budding on trees outside the heavily grated mill windows, Katie continued with her work, her eyes almost closed, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. But this time, she misjudged. This one time out of the countless others, she pushed a little too hard on the cloth gathered in front of her, or she held her arms out for a split second too long, allowing the massive metal jaws of the machine come down with a different sounding crunch. That was all she noticed, the change in the sound around her, before she fainted and saw only black.


End file.
